


When You Meet A Stranger - After Everything

by TeaHouseMoon



Series: When You Meet A Stranger [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Oliver pov, Other tags to be added, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Texting, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, elio misses Oliver, oliver is back in new york, you should read the previous stories in the series to understand the context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 07:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15658893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaHouseMoon/pseuds/TeaHouseMoon
Summary: Oliver is back in New York after his summer in Italy with Elio. The boys navigate their long distance relationship...**Completed.**





	1. I miss you

**From: Oliver <3**

Finally got home. Hope you’re okay. I love you.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Hi!!!!!!!!! So late!! Isn’t it midnight already over there?? I LOVE YOU TOO. I MISS YOU

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

It is. My connection in Paris was delayed. I didn’t think you’d be awake! Why are you not sleeping baby

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

It’s fine I wanted to wait for your text

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I couldn’t sleep anyway

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Oh no. :(

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I’m sorry you can’t sleep, sweetheart.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I just miss you. I really do

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I miss you too.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

This sucks :(

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I know, my love. I know.

It’ll be ok though.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Yeah...

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I want you to close your eyes now. Try and sleep a little. Will you do that?

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Will you call me tomorrow?

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Of course I will.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Ok. I’ll try to sleep.

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

That’s my boy. Sweet dreams, Baby Deer. I love you. Xoxo

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Love you too. So much. Xoxoxo

 


	2. Carl

Carl has been eyeing him for the past two hours, and Oliver has noticed, of course, though he’s just pretended he hasn’t.

Carl is also back from his travels - Thailand for a month, soon enough he’s going to start talking again about wanting to move there and open a bar in Krabi - and Oliver knows, he’s bored.

Oliver has known Carl for three years and not once his friend has kept quiet, any time he’s wanted to say something.

“So? Tell me about Italy?”

Here we go.

“What about it?” Oliver just says, handing him a beer and taking one for himself, before sitting down on the sofa next to him. He still feels tired and jet lagged, and really just wants to fall asleep to a re-run of The Wire. But he knows Carl is not going to leave before he gets what he wants.

“What do you mean what about it? You left at a week’s notice as if you’d found your, I don’t know. Holy Grail or something.”

“Biblical reference? Really, at this time of the night?”

“Oliver! Come on.”

Oliver can’t really avoid it. And after all, he likes Carl.

“It was all good. Italy is wonderful. Wish I could have stayed longer... Samuel Perlman, he’s a Classical studies professor - he’s amazing. I was so lucky to be there, he was looking for an intern to help him out with some cataloguing he had to do. It was so interesting and useful.”

“Okay. And what about the girl?”

Straight to the point.

“What girl?”

Carl almost chokes while taking a swig of his beer in his haste to smirk at him.

“Dude. You were glued to your computer and your phone before you left. Tapping on it like those teenage girls obsessed with snapchat or whatever that’s called.” He smirks again, and Oliver supposes that’s his way of trying to convince him to spill the beans. “You’ve got someone. You didn’t go there just to see this professor.”

As Oliver rolls his eyes - and thinks that Elio has now rubbed off on him with that - Carl doesn’t miss a beat.

“Unless! Unless it’s the professor you went to see?? You sly fox you!”

Carl’s already laughing as if he’s got everything figured out - he’s the only person Oliver has ever talked to about hooking up with men as well as women.

They’ve met at a gay bar. Carl is, in his own words, pansexual. He’s a safe confidant, and Oliver really needed one.

“No, God - slow down, will you?” Oliver’s eyes have gone quite wide because for once, Carl couldn’t be further from the truth. “Christ. You should write your own movies. I’ll see you at the Oscars.”

Carl laughs again.

“Come on, then? Who is it?”

So. This is the moment that Elio starts becoming real in Oliver’s world, too.

“The person I was talking to, and whom I went to see, is called Elio. He’s the professor’s son, in fact. Now you get why you were so wrong just now.”

“Not so wrong,” Carl smirks. “But go on.”

“Fuck off,” Oliver says for good measure. Then, softer: “We met online. Elio and I. It was quite a coincidence, like... everything fell into place.” He has to take another drink of his beer. It’s nearly empty.

“I’ve - I was really happy, for six weeks.”

Carl’s voice is suddenly softer too.

“Ah. Dude. That’s... really good?”

Oliver nods. Looks down at his hand.

“Yeah.” For the moment, he can’t make himself say more. It’s all still so raw.

“Well. Tell me about Elio? What does he look like, what does he do, how old is he, I don’t know.”

“Maybe I’ll show you a picture,” Oliver offers. “At some point.” He thinks he’s not ready to really share Elio, the idea of him, with the world outside his mind.

“I bet he’s a teacher like his father. Probably at some really posh kind of Ivy League Italian college. You always like them braniacs.”

Oliver clears his throat. His heart throbs in his chest.

“He’s...Not. He’s a student. Still in high school.” He lifts his eyes to look at Carl, and then looks down, and adds, to stop his friend’s imagination thinking something it shouldn’t. “He’s seventeen.”

There’s a silence, which Oliver was expecting. And then he looks at Carl again, and his friend shrugs.

“What?”

“Are you not going to say anything?”

If he has to hear it, Oliver would rather hear it now, get it over with.

Carl just stares.

“No, I’m not going to say anything. Because I know you and I’m sure that you’ve tortured yourself enough about this. I know that you didn’t do anything lightly, heck I bet you made that poor kid beg for it or something-“

“Okay, okay, easy.”

“But you know what I mean,” Carl doesn’t relent. “If the kid’s father himself didn’t kill you, who am I to judge? And that’s got nothing to do with age, trust me, but you were their guest and - hey, now that I think about it, you should teach me your tricks!”

As always with Carl, Oliver wants to both slap and hug him at the same time. He settles for chuckling, and looking away, rolling his eyes again. He feels so much younger than he’s felt in a while.

“Please stop talking,” he says. “Message received.”

Carl is looking at him with narrowed eyes. Not chastised one bit.

“Okay. So can I see a picture of this, Ez-“

“Elio.”

“...Elio?”

Oliver hesitates.

It’s crazy. He feels so protective over Elio.

He wonders if it’s jealousy? Elio is his. His secret. His memory. His treasure.

But he doesn’t want Elio to be just that, and he’s shared something with Carl already... and he’s proud of Elio. He could talk about him for hours and hours.

So he pulls out his phone, and picks a photo he took of Elio during one of their excursions, after they’d biked for hours, one where he’s smiling and his cheeks are rosy, hair in disarray. Oliver loves that picture.

“Wow. Congrats Oliver. He’s stunning.”

Carl is talking as if Elio is somehow Oliver’s creation, and it’s funny, because Oliver sometimes feels like he could be. Something perfect, come to life just for him.

“He’s not just... I mean, he’s gorgeous. But he’s so intelligent, funny, witty. You can really talk to him. And such a sharp mouth. He doesn’t let me get away with anything.”

“Oh good,” Carl nods. “It makes a change from your usual.”

“Fuck you.” Oliver is very rarely crass, and when he is, Carl usually has something to do with it.

“Also,” Carl says, getting up from the sofa and patting Oliver on the knee. “Congrats, you’re whipped.”

If that isn’t just the truth, Oliver thinks.

“See you tomorrow,” Carl says as he leaves, half smile half smirk still on his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, 2 chapters in one day... I was inspired! I’m not sure how regularly this story will update, certainly every time my muse shows up!
> 
> I hope you guys liked Carl... 
> 
> Xx


	3. Oliver

It’s been a week, and Oliver has spent it mostly working. His apprenticeship at Columbia starts in a few days, and he already has lesson plans to prepare. He’s grateful for it; at least he has something to keep himself busy.

He texts Elio every day.

He wishes he could send him good morning texts, but he’s asleep when it’s morning for Elio, so Elio does it for him instead. He’s never forgotten once, so far.

Oliver texts him at night, before he goes to bed; messages that Elio can read when he wakes up. He tells him about his day. He tells him about New York. He tells him about missing Italy, about missing him.

They’ve video called, also, almost every day.

Oliver doesn’t want to think about how hard it is already, because it’s literally only been one week. He’s supposed to be the older, wiser one. He’s supposed to know what to do.

But the truth is: he doesn’t.

He’s never had a long distance relationship before, and especially not one where they are both from such different worlds. In every way possible. He’s never missed someone so much.

On his second Monday without Elio, Oliver wants to call him - but it’s night time already in New York, and really early morning in Italy. Elio will be asleep.

Oliver thinks about waking him up. He’s not going to. He needs to be the strong one.

He ends up touching himself in his bed, thinking, thinking furiously, about this version of himself just mere days before, the version of Oliver just a week ago, who had Elio in his arms and in his bed. That version of himself already feels so distant now; Oliver envies him ferociously.

He fists himself with his eyes closed and thinks of Elio, ivory skin Elio, red lips Elio, laying under him and on him and moving slowly and quickly, and everything in between. He thinks of burying his nose in his curls, heck, burying his fingers in his curls and pulling a little. He thinks of holding Elio’s little waist in his hands, guiding him up and down on his own body.He would die to hear his moans again, and yes they’ve had sex on video calls recently but that so doesn’t compare. To anything. He would die to hear Elio’s moans right into his ear, he would die to press his lips against the boy’s throat and feel his frantic pulse.

But now he’s only got his own hands for company. When he comes, the pleasure lasts only a few seconds, and then he actually feels kind of worse. He feels dissatisfied and empty.

It was to be expected. It’s par for the course. For one crazy, insane moment, he thinks he wants to buy Elio a plane ticket and fly him over, so that he can spend one night with him, one night with his young lover.

He laughs at his thought, afterwards.

This is normal. This is what was always going to happen.

He trudges to his en suite bathroom, and when he comes back, he takes his phone in his hands and sends a text. If he wakes Elio up, then so be it; Oliver is certainly not going to complain.

 

**From: Oliver <3**

What have you done to me?

 

He knows that Elio will get what he means, and perhaps, it will even bring a smile to his face.

He turns his phone off so he’s not tempted to look at it; he forces himself to go to sleep.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick one, because Oliver is lonely...xx


	4. Call me

**From: Baby Deer**

Hey can you call me?

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Hey baby. I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m on my way to work :(

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

:( :( :(

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Are you ok?

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Yes I just wanted to talk to you

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I’m sorry. I have a student meeting after work but if it’s not too late for you I can call you then?

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Yes it won’t be too late you can call

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Not calling you if it is late. You need your sleep :)

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

CALL ME

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Call me or I’ll turn off my phone like someone did

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Baby, it was just once! I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about you too much

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Sounds fake but ok

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

????

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

It’s a meme. I’m kidding. I forget you don’t know what the internet is lol

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

You’re lucky I’m stupidly in love with you or I would be mad right now

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Nooo! I love u I love u I love u

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Here’s my revenge

 

**From: Oliver <3**

** _photo delivered**_

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Me in the gym this morning ;)

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

OLIVER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Fuck Oliver wtf

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Not good? ;)

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I hate you!!!!!!!!

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Ah. Didn’t know you were so fickle... ;)

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

:,(

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I have to go now baby. I will text you later and call if you’re not in bed

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Call me if I AM in bed !!

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Haha. Ok. I love you

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I love you too xxxxxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can imagine Oliver’s picture however you want - but it’s NOT a selfie (especially not a cheesy one in front of the mirror haha!)  
> I was thinking of the video Armie posted on IG yesterday... hawt. ;)   
> X


	5. Not going to tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. And angst. Not in that order.

“I’m not going to tell my folks.”

They’re in a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, on a Saturday night in October. Sat at the table across from him, Carl widens his eyes, as if that might help him hear better.

“You’re not going to what?”

Oliver looks out to the floor of the bar where people are loudly talking and smacking glasses in cheers. He wonders what they’re celebrating.

“I’m not going to tell my folks. About me and Elio.”

Carl just stares, as his usual, for a long moment. Even if he’s not looking at him, Oliver can tell he’s doing it.

“Right,” Carl says. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t know.” Oliver doesn’t know. Or maybe he does. “Josh, getting engaged. The party the other day. It got me thinking.”

“Ah,” Carl nods as if all is clear. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken you there.”

“Why? It’s fine. It just made me think.”

Carl nods again and takes a sip of his pint. His brow is furrowed. Damn, Oliver thinks, maybe he should have waited until Carl was at least tipsy before talking.

“But you told the kid you’re gonna marry him, right?”

“Stop calling him ‘the kid’. “ Oliver makes a voice to emphasise the word.

“I will when you finally let me meet him.” Carl spits back. And then, to stop Oliver’s protests. “Even if only on a video call!”

Oliver’s eyes are back on the floor, on the crowd. Everybody’s seems carefree and full of life.

“Don’t avoid the subject,” Carl continues, softer.

“Yes, I know. I’ve told him I want to marry him but that’s not going to be for years, Carl. He’s seventeen.”

“Bet he wouldn’t like to hear this.”

“Yeah, well,” Oliver feels entirely not drunk enough for this conversation. “It’s the truth.”

A sigh.

“What does he think about...” Carl starts, then tries again. “What do his parents think?”

“His parents are different.” Oliver’s voice is strong and firm. “They’re just - it’s a totally different situation. They let him sleep in my bed.”

“Yeah,” Carl says, sighs again. They both look out to the floor. A guy and a girl are kissing by the counter. What the hell - the Universe is trying its damnedest to be jarring right now, Oliver thinks.

“I guess this is not something you have to, I mean. Sort out right here and right now. You have some time,” Carl offers.

Oliver does feel his stomach clench at the thought. Some time.

And then what?

The music changes, and it’s less trance, more 90s rock. They drink their beers, and don’t talk for a while.

 

 

 

Despite his best judgement he ends up staying out quite late, and it’s already 2am by the time they leave. They’re in a taxi, dropping off Oliver first, and he sees Elio’s morning text has already come through. This time, he sent a picture too.

It’s Elio, in his room in Milan. Dressed in a crumpled T-shirt that he uses for bed. His hair is tousled - it’s slightly longer now, and Oliver makes a mental note to remind him not to cut it, please - his face is flushed and his eyes narrowed with sleep.

Oliver’s heart throbs with love.

He smiles, and thinks he’s going to call his young lover right there in the car, so Carl can finally meet him, just like he’s been bugging him to do for forever now. Carl, who is half snoozing in the back of the taxi right now.

But then Oliver decides against it. Elio’s adorable, half-undressed, unfiltered and vulnerable right now. He’s probably nestled in his duvet, maybe hugging his pillow, smelling of Elio and of sleep. Oliver wants to call him, yes, and wake him up properly, yes, but doesn’t want to share him with anyone else. This Elio is just for him.

So he runs to the elevator and to his flat when they’re back at his address, locks the door behind himself for the night with haste, and videocalls Elio the second he’s in his bedroom.

“Hey, Oliver?”

“Hey, Kiddo. Good morning.”

“I didn’t know you were awake, sorry, I just sent it as always, but. I’m happy that you called. Were you out?”

“Yeah, just got back now. I was out with Carl.”

Oliver tells him even if he hasn’t asked, because he knows Elio will ask. Oliver is impatient and doesn’t want to waste time recounting his night just now.

“Oh. Your best friend? That you mentioned? I hope you had fun.”

“Mmh. Take your clothes off, baby?”

Oliver knows that the question is abrupt, and sees Elio blink his sleepy eyes because he wasn’t expecting it. But Oliver is already hard, desire swimming in his head and almost clouding his vision. Almost.

He wants to do this.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah. Please? Take everything off, come on, sweetheart.”

His face must say a thousand more words, because Elio just smiles a little, and then makes sure that his phone holds upright somewhere and he’s properly in the shot, and undresses.

His shirt. His shorts. His underwear.

He makes sure he is in the shot the whole time, and Oliver has to close his eyes for a moment, while he strokes and squeezes himself.

Fuck.

“What happened,” Elio giggles while he says this. He watches Oliver interestedly, too, reaches down to touch himself as well.

“Nothing. Fuck. Baby, put your fingers in your mouth. Suck on your fingers. Please.”

Elio does, slowly, keeping his eyes on Oliver. Oliver feels he needs to thank quite a few of his lucky stars for this, for Elio being such a natural at this and learning so fast. Fuck, but he looks amazing.

“Now touch your nipples... like that. Imagine it’s my mouth on them.”

Elio does, and moans gently.

“Come closer. Show me your mouth. Close to the camera,” Oliver demands again, and then, when Elio complies: “Fuck. I wish I could be in that mouth right now. That sweet fucking mouth.”

He’s definitely lost a filter here and there, brain still muddled with alcohol. It doesn’t seem to faze Elio. He just moans gently, and keeps touching himself.

So Oliver continues.

“Would you like me to, baby? What would you like me to do?”

“I...I want you in my mouth. And on my chest and on my face and inside me.”

“Fuck.”

Elio’s hips have started thrusting slowly, against nothing but Oliver’s brain is in flames. He fists himself harder, imagining it’s Elio’s body around him, remembering how he feels, cursing his hand for not being as tight as he is, as warm as he is, as soft as he is. Cursing Elio for not being there, cursing himself for being an idiot, a cowardly idiot, for always picking the most difficult of choices and situations. For always going for the impossible.

He wants to talk more, tell the angel on the screen in front of him all the dirty stuff he dreams to do to him at night, and how much he is sorry for being who he is.

He can’t, though; the pleasure is intense and he can only move his hand and watch Elio, look him in the eyes and hope they orgasm together. Elio is a little sweaty, a curl drawing a shape on his forehead, and he smiles like a little devil, hips still in motion.

“I miss you inside me,” he moans. “I miss you filling me up. You fill me up with everything, Oliver...”

Oliver comes with a grunt. His head definitely swims. His hand keeps moving for a while. He rides it out until the end.

When he looks back up at the screen, his lover is looking back, still touching himself. If Oliver were there, he would put three fingers inside of him and make him come like that.

He feels exhausted, and something else too. So many emotions at once.

“Fuck, Oliver.”

Elio’s voice makes him focus again. He’s come, too. He looks so beautifully flushed that Oliver wishes he could screenshot that moment, but his hands are out of action right now.

“Fuck. That was so good.”

“What were you doing awake so early, anyway? It’s Sunday.”

“We’re going on a little trip. To Monza, to visit a friend. Wish you could come too.”

That sentence is nonsense and Oliver knows it. He can’t go to Monza with Elio. He can’t take Elio into his arms. He can’t kiss him, or sleep with him, or make love to him like he should be able to.

He knows he needs to snap out of this little misery hole he’s dug up for himself.

“Sounds fun, kiddo. I- I think I need to go to sleep. It’s 3am here.”

He needs to quieten his mind.

“Yeah. I’ll send you pictures, though? And live updates.” Elio giggles again. “You can respond when you wake up.”

Oliver smiles, feeling tenderness fill up his whole being. Such a rollercoaster of emotions every time - up, down. Up, down. He needs to learn how to deal with this. He’s twenty-four. He thought he knew better.

“Go to sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The screen goes black, but Elio’s face stays impressed in Oliver’s eyes long after that.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? ;)


	6. What to say

****Call connected****

 

_Hey, Elio_

 

Heeeeey

 

_Are you sure this is ok? I was gonna call you in a few minutes. Don’t want you spending too much money_

 

No no it’s fine! I got a thing on my contract. What’s it called? Like an add on. You pick the country you want calls included. So I picked the US and I can call you for free

 

_Oh! Ok. Amazing_

 

Mmh-mh. What are you doing?

 

_Just got back from the gym. Going to have some food and then meet up with some colleagues_

 

On a Saturday?

 

_Yeah... end of term is close. We need to talk about exams, grading... boring stuff. There’s just not enough time in the week_

 

Oh ok. Kinda sucks

 

_It’s fine. It’s only for a couple of hours. What are you up to?_

 

I just had dinner. Was going to curl up on the sofa and watch some Netflix

 

_Not going out?_

 

Nah. I don’t feel too well. Headache. Don’t want to make it worse

 

_Aw I’m sorry kiddo. Yeah, stay home and rest_

 

Oliver?

 

_Yeah?_

 

Can I ask you something?

 

 _Course_.

 

Did you tell anyone about us?

 

_About..._

 

About, I mean. What we plan to do? In the future?

 

_Why?_

 

I dunno, I... I was talking to a friend, and she, like. I dunno. She was surprised cos like, she thinks it’s too early. To think of these things. But I told her everybody’s different. So I just

 

 _Mmh_.

 

What?

 

_Nothing. What did you want to ask?_

 

I. I just wanted to ask if you told anyone and what you said. Or what you think I should say

 

_I’ve only told Carl._

 

And what did he say?

 

_He didn’t say anything. He knows it’s not going to be for a few years_

 

Oh.

 

_And anyway, it’s none of his business. So I would say, maybe don’t tell them. If you know that their answer will upset you, then don’t tell them_

 

It didn’t upset me.

 

_No?_

 

No.

 

_Then...what’s the problem?_

 

The problem is that I just wanted to know what you thought. Because I think of it all the time and it’s important and, and I don’t want to hide it

 

_I didn’t say you should hide it, but sometimes people feel like they have the right to judge even when it has nothing to do with them_

 

So your answer is to just not say anything

 

 _Sometimes_.

 

Oliver, just because you haven’t told your parents it doesn’t mean you can’t tell anybody and everybody will judge us.

 

_Who mentioned my parents?_

 

It was obvious.

 

_What was obvious?_

 

That you were talking about them!

 

 _Elio_.

 

I... I don’t know why I asked. Sorry for starting this. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.

 

_Elio?_

 

No, it’s fine.

 

_Why are we fighting?_

 

We’re not fighting. We’re agreeing. Not telling anyone. Got it.

 

_Elio, please._

 

Look, I think... look I’m sorry I started this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ll let you go, you have to get ready. Let’s just talk later

 

_Are you sure?_

 

Yeah.

 

_Fine. Ok. I’ll call you later._

 

Ok.

 

****Call disconnected****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!!! But remember, I would never not give them a happy ending. So, you’re safe with me! It’s just a bit tough at the moment... x


	7. You weren’t

**From: Oliver <3**

Sorry I didn’t call. I ended up working later than I thought and you would have been in bed already.

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Listen... can we wait until December? We can talk about things face to face instead of over the phone. I think it would be better.

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I love you and I’m sorry if I hurt you.

 

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Sorry was asleep

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Yes I would like to talk in person.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

But we’re ok right?? I’m sorry I was an asshole yesterday. I’m sorry

 

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

No, you weren’t! We’re ok. Of course

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Are you sure :(

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Yes

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Do you want to look at flights? Send to me and I’ll buy them

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I ju

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Sorry I sent too quickly !!! Nooo I can’t let you I’ll save up I have some money already. I’ll pay

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I really don’t mind. I’m inviting you. I would like to pay for your flights if you’ll let me

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I feel bad

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Are we gonna argue about who pays for your flights now?:)

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

No!!! No no I don’t wanna argue about anything

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Good :) so I’d be happy to do this. What happened to maybe I’ll pay to fly you here to sleep with me? ;))))

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

Lol

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

I bet you’re blushing right now :)

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

No I’m not

 

**From: Baby Deer**

** _image delivered*_ *

 

**From: Baby Deer**

See??

 

 

**From: Oliver <3**

Fuck, I miss you.

 

 

**From: Baby Deer**

I miss you too !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

He’s in class, waiting for the students to fill the room for the start of his lesson, but Oliver smiles down at his phone as if that’s the only thing he’s interested in.

“Got a nice message?” 

The voice is familiar and when Oliver looks up, he sees a blonde girl standing by him and grinning. She’s one of his students of English lit, and he remembers her because she speaks up often. He likes her passion for the subject. And she’s bright. 

“Yeah,” he respond absentmindedly. Not really professional to be texting in class, so he straightens himself up and puts his phone away.

“Girlfriend?”

Oliver doesn’t know why, but he answers.

“Something like that.”

The girl nods. 

“I’m Anna, by the way,” she says and offers him her hand. Oliver shakes it.

“Hi, yes. I remember you. I hope you enjoyed class today.” 

“I did. Very much.” She smiles again. “And I wanted to tell you that I also loved the book you recommended last time.”

“John Canning?”

Anna nods. 

“Keep ‘em coming.” 

With that, she smiles, says goodbye, and leaves.

Oliver frowns for a moment, but then it’s time for his next class to start. He hopes it goes fast, so he can go home, and book Elio’s flights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay!!! I had the busiest week at work. 
> 
> Thank you for still being here with me! Let me know what you think :)


	8. Different

Time seems to be going fast, and Oliver is grateful. He just cannot wait now until he can have Elio in his arms again. It feels like it’s been years, it feels like they both must be so different now. Oliver stops himself, shakes his head at his own childishness right now. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this dramatic, even in the most unruly moments of his teenage years.

His English lit student Anna has become quite the acquaintance, meanwhile.

She’s confident and outgoing, and when Oliver introduces her to Carl, when he drops by after one of his classes one day, they hit it right off. 

“Anna is attractive,” Carl says.

“She is,” Oliver responds.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Carl asks. 

“Thought I was clear? I’m not looking for anyone, I’m off the search, I’ve got someone?” Oliver stops looking at papers to point wide eyes at Carl. “What happened to me being ‘whipped’??”

“Whatever, I mean. As if you’ve always been faithful.”

“Well, this time I am. I want to be.”

Carl nods. Oliver rolls his eyes.

“You ask her out.”

“She likes you.”

“This is what you always say.”

“It’s the truth.”

That night they go out to one of the two bars they always go to on campus and Anna is there, and joins them smiling and bringing beers. Oliver looks at her: she does always try to sit next to him. She does always ask him first about his day. She always tries to guess who he’s always texting.

So this time, he tells her.

“My boyfriend. Elio. He’s coming over for the holidays.”

Both Anna and Carl are stunned, although for different reasons. He hasn’t told Carl he was going to lay all his cards on the table with Anna, but it was a spur of the moment decision. And Anna, well. Oliver doesn’t think she thought he could like men.

“Oh, how lovely,” she comments.

“Yes, I can’t wait,” Oliver responds simply. And then smiles. He finds that he does not care what she thinks, and it feels good.

 

 

Then, finally, finally!, the day arrives.

Oliver drives to the airport, but in all honesty, it’s all a bit of a blur. What he remembers is that Elio looks beautiful in his hoodie and backpack, coat thrown over an arm as he appears at arrivals. His hair is longer, mussed, but he has a huge smile on his face.

Fortunately the drive home is quick enough, or at least it seems so to Oliver’s impatient mind. He doesn’t remember what they talked about, he only remembers Elio looking outside the car window excitedly, Elio forgetting his seatbelt, he remembers thinking I’m bringing Elio home. My home.

Luckily their minds are aligned once they get to the apartment, and Oliver slams the door shut and pushes Elio against the wall, lifting him up and wrapping the boy’s thighs around his hips. 

They kiss, frantic and hungry, and Oliver is so so so happy that Elio is here, right here, in person, flesh and bones, skin and curls and green eyes and red lips.

“I smell of airplane, let me go get a shower.”

“No no no,” Oliver actually breaks a kiss to shake his head. “I don’t care.”

Elio’s laughter then is the best sound he’s heard in months, and he puts his mouth against his neck to bite at his jugular and make him squeal.

When he adjusts him against the wall - makes sure he supports him properly, grinds his hips against his belly - they don’t laugh anymore.

It’s just breaths and sighs and moans, Elio pulling and messing up Oliver’s hair, Oliver almost dry humping him to orgasm, clothes still on and everything.

“Off off off,” Oliver says when he realises. His favorite thing to say, and he knows Elio would have laughed if he weren’t so intent in undressing right now.

Oliver has the capacity to remember the lube, but fucking now still feels like the first time they did it. Elio cries out and Oliver grunts, both in each other’s mouths. This feels familiar, and yet, so different.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Oliver says, after, when they’re both in a heap on the floor, right by the door. Elio is actually lying down, and Oliver is thankful for the soft carpet he’s decided to put there on a whim some weeks ago.

Elio’s raven curls are fanned out under him. Oliver lies half on top of him and kisses him.

“What are you sorry for?” Elio looks up at him, scratches lightly at Oliver’s stubble with a hand.

“I literally - I didn’t mean to. This. Should have been in the bedroom. Properly.”

Elio laughs.

“Do you have rose petals strewn over the bedsheets?”

“No!” Oliver also laughs.

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Elio’s hand has reached Oliver’s mouth, and his thumb is caressing his lower lip. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

Oliver kisses him some more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments give me life!!


	9. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait again. But - I give you smut! Yay! ;)

Elio finally meets Carl, and this is how it happens: Carl has some friends from Boston over at his place. Carl decides to have a little last-minute shindig; Carl calls all of his friends over.

It’s nine pm and it’s a Friday night in New York, so of course not all of Carl’s friends come, because some already have plans and that would be completely insane, anyway. But Oliver takes Elio there, and Carl finally meets him.

“Hi!” he says when he shakes the boy’s hand, and Oliver immediately pulls Elio close by the waist and gives Carl a mock dirty look (but he is a little serious.) (Elio just giggles.)

“Mmmh okay, Oliver here has become Mr Possessive so I’ll make sure I stay away,” Carl chuckles too, with a little smirk. “Can I get you a drink, my doll?”

Elio nods and smiles, he looks amused by Carl teasing Oliver and by Oliver’s arm so firm around his waist.

“Yes please.”

“Coming right up. And one for your Grumpy Cat boyfriend here,” Carl smirks some more and leaves.

“He’s quite crazy. But in a good way,” Elio giggles again, and turns around in Oliver’s embrace. Everybody in the apartment right now is older than him, and Oliver is aware that this is most likely Elio’s first party populated entirely by adults.

“Yeah,” Oliver smiles, and kisses him on the lips.

He doesn’t feel like letting Elio out of his sight. He doesn’t care about talking to other people. He’s justified, as well: he wants to spend as much time as possible glued to Elio’s side while he is actually there with him. For real.

Even when Carl gives Elio his drink, the taste of rum and coke is so sweet on the boy’s lips that Oliver can’t stop kissing him.

They make out for long moments - in Carl’s kitchen, in Carl’s living room. The rest of the time, Elio seems fascinated by his surroundings, observes everyone, laughs at Carl chatting away about random crap.

And that’s how Elio’s first party in New York City goes.

 

Carl is indeed crazy, but Oliver doesn’t think Elio has realised entirely what level of crazy until a few days later, when Carl persuades them to join him at a bar. Oliver is worried for Elio, because he is so young and so many bars would refuse entry. Carl knows one that doesn’t, though - and he knows the bouncer - and so Elio only has to experience the pleasure of having a black X scribbled over the back of his hands with a pen to signal that he can’t order alcohol.

Anyway. Oliver is a little tipsy. Oliver sits with Elio at a table and they kiss, and kiss, and kiss. Oliver just wants to take Elio home by this point.

Carl is drunk, and has a better idea.

“You two should get married already,” he announces when he sits down next to them. “Elio, you’re here in the city anyway - you two should elope, just get married.”

Oliver is completely aware his friend is drunk and he is also drunk and this is why his filter doesn’t work that well right now - or he would just laugh and tell Carl to let them kiss in peace.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t, Ollie-boy?”

“Wow. You’re really smashed!” Elio laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, because even he knows that Carl wouldn’t call Oliver that normally.

“Yes, I would.” Oliver says only.

He looks Elio straight in the eyes as if Carl doesn’t even exist at that moment. Elio looks back, and swallows - because he wasn’t expecting that.

“You would elope with me?”

Oliver smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah I would.”

Elio’s brilliant smile is all he needs to feel even more exhilarated right now, and while he thankfully needs a huge amount of alcohol to lose lucidity, he’s glad that the beer has loosened his tongue a little bit - and earned him Elio beaming so beautifully, his cheeks going rosy and flushed.

 

 

 

That night they make love slow and languid, and they talk to each other, hushed, telling each other secrets as Elio rides Oliver and Oliver’s hands guide his hips.

“You were jealous of Carl,” Elio purrs, fingers on Oliver’s nape pulling his hair, and the sharp pressure flames up into Oliver’s loins.

“He’s a flirt,” Oliver bites back, eyes nearly closed with the pleasure.

“I like you like that. With me. It’s hot,” Elio purrs again, his eyes glinting. His cheeks flushed and warm.

Oliver’s hand hold tighter and pull him down harder, and he feels Elio’s abdomen spasming with the deep jab. Good riddance.

“You little shit.”

Elio laughs and leans down to kiss him, and now Oliver has to bend his knees and fuck him from below, and Elio moans into his mouth at every thrust, every breath.

Oliver is still pleasantly tipsy, feels his blood hot in his veins. He knows Elio is aware of this, and so he kind of expects the next thing he says.

“So are we getting married?”

Oliver has decided he will punish Elio for every smartass thing he says, by grabbing his hips and pushing him down on himself until he’s buried in him to the root, his whole length held inside his body.

He knows it’s not a punishment.

“I told you we will.”

Elio resumes moving, up and down, as soon as Oliver allows him.

“But I mean now.”

Oliver opens his eyes and looks at Elio. His stormy green eyes full of arousal, his long lashes, his swollen red mouth. He strokes a thumb over Elio’s bottom lip, none too gently, and Elio obediently opens his mouth and licks the pad.

“You wanna get married now? Huh?” Oliver asks just for show. Elio nods anyway. “Then say yes. Say yes now and we’re married.”

“Yes,” Elio says without missing a beat, dislodging Oliver’s finger from his mouth to be heard properly. “Yes, yes.”

“Done.” Oliver reaches over and latches his mouth onto the side of Elio’s throat, sucking a mark there.

Elio’s hips move faster from that moment, their moans get louder. Elio comes first and then breathes in Oliver’s mouth, Oliver feeling his body squeeze the life out of him, until he comes too.

 


	10. Who is it

Oliver is sipping his coffee the morning after, sat on the small sofa in his living room, when Elio awakes.

He appears on the doorway with his curls sticking in all directions, and his eyes still half closed, and it makes Oliver smile. He beckons the boy over with an arm out which he wraps around the back of Elio’s legs, and pulls him in, lifts his shirt a bit, and kisses his small, flat belly.

Elio puts his hands on Oliver’s head, runs his fingers through it.

“You smell so good,” Oliver growls softly on Elio’s skin.

“I smell like I need a shower,” Elio mumbles instead, although he’s smiling.

“Nah. I love this.” Oliver kisses his tummy again, then lower down. One kiss, two kisses, three kisses...

“Oliver. I’m seventeen. And I just woke up. You’re not helping my situation.”

He tries to push Oliver’s head away without much conviction, and Oliver knows that it’s because Elio would never refuse a blowjob. He can’t blame him. He loves them too.

“Why don’t I come into the shower with you then...”

And they do. And for the whole time, Oliver is glad that his body has such high tolerance towards hangovers that he doesn’t really feel the consequences of too much alcohol the night before.

 

 

 

It’s bliss - so Oliver should have known that it was not going to last.

“Who is Anna?”

Elio’s question comes like an echo, as if Oliver had been, subconsciously, expecting it all along. Although he’d been hoping it just wouldn’t happen. Anna is no one, not to Oliver. Not in any way compared to Elio.

“Anna?”

He feels he needs to ask, because he doesn’t know how Elio knows.

“She texted you just now.”

They’re sat on the bed - Oliver searching for clothes to wear, Elio’s hair still wet from the shower. Oliver’s phone is resting on the bed, in plain view.

“You should not read other people’s messages.”

“Answer me. Why is she saying that she can’t wait to see you?”

Oliver sighs.

“She is a friend. A student from one of my courses - but yes, a friend too. And a friend of Carl’s.”

“Then how come I don’t know about her?”

Elio’s face is flushed, and Oliver wishes it was from the shower or the great sex they just had in there (Oliver sucked him off for a while, but then Elio wanted him inside again), but he knows it’s not because of either. Sadly.

And Elio has asked the right question, as well.

“I didn’t think it mattered. But she knows about you,” Oliver says in a rush.

“You didn’t think it mattered, but she knows about me? What does that even mean?”

“It just means, she is a student, Elio! At my college. Where I teach. I don’t think she should know. I don’t think she should know, the details.”

As soon as he’s said this, Oliver sets his teeth. He knows he’s in trouble. They’re both in trouble. Everything’s in trouble.

Elio is looking at him, his eyes already wet. He looks angry. The feistiness that Oliver loves about him shows itself in this, too.

“You don’t want her to meet me because you don’t want her to know that’s I’m seventeen. So you half assed some stuff about me but haven’t told her that I, that I’m here, and that she can’t - and that she can’t slobber all over you when you two finally meet up.”

“Elio.” Oliver’s tone is a warning. He wishes he knew how to avoid a fight, but it’s true, he’s an idiot. He doesn’t know.

Elio puts on his clothes - shirt, his jeans, his shoes - and grabs his coat.

“Where are you going?” Oliver tries. “Baby. Please, wait. I don’t want you out there by yourself.”

“I can look after myself,” Elio growls back.

Oliver really wants to stop him, but more out of a weird, insane, ridiculous fear that Elio will just, leave him, just leave him there and never come back; than because he’s worried about his neighbourhood being dangerous at this time in the morning. Either way, he wants to keep Elio safe.

And maybe this is why he lets him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I do!!


	11. So much that you could do

Oliver only waits one hour before texting Elio.

He sends him two texts. ‘Come back?’ and ‘please? I’d like to talk.’ Another hour goes by before Elio actually returns, true to his stubborn self.

Oliver wants to ask him if he’s okay, not mentally, not in a ‘are you still upset’ kind of way - in a real, ‘are you physically okay and are you sure no one hurt you’ kind of way. He thinks it, but stops himself from saying it, because his protective feelings toward Elio would not be welcome right now. Elio doesn’t want to be babied. And Oliver knows he worries too much.

They just look at each other, and Oliver still feels that Elio doesn’t want to be in the same room as him. There’s so much still in between them, and he knows it’s not just this fight. This fight was a long time coming. They knew they had to talk - they’d just been putting it off.

Oliver would still like to put it off. 

“Can we talk?” Oliver finds the will to say - even though he doesn’t want to talk. He just wants things to be okay. As selfish as that is.

Elio lifts his chin, and looks at him, as if he doesn’t believe it. He’s clever like that.

Oliver tries.

“Will you come here? Please?”

Elio is still by the entrance to the living room, Oliver is still sat on the sofa where he has been waiting for him this whole time like a lovesick fool.

Stalemate.

But then Elio, slowly, walks towards him. Oliver stands up. When Elio is sufficiently close, they look at each other, Elio up at him, Oliver down.

Elio’s lips are so red, and all Oliver wants to do is kiss them.

“I’m not gonna have sex with you. If you think this is how it’s going to go.” Elio bites his lower lip, keeps it hidden behind his teeth, as if to hide what he knows it’s distracting Oliver. “You said talk, and I wanna talk.”

Oliver nods.

Sighs.

“Anna is a student from one of my courses. She approached me once after a class. I didn’t think anything of it, but I guess she thought I was available and she was interested. This is what Carl says, anyway.”

He sees Elio swallow at that, as if he’s received the confirmation he wanted.

“You should look at yourself in the mirror more,” Elio murmurs, looking down for a bit and then back up at Oliver. Oliver looks down too for a moment. And then continues.

“She’s become a friend, we hang out. I think she still likes me.”

Elio blinks a few times, as if trying to get rid of the shine that’s in his eyes now.

“Do you like her?”

“Not in the same way. I like her as a friend,” Oliver says, without hesitating.

Elio still looks at him, straight into his eyes.

“Do you see anyone else.”

The question stays suspended in the air between them and for a moment Oliver thinks he understood wrong. He blinks, himself, as if startled. He wasn’t expecting it. But he understands why Elio is asking.

“No. There hasn’t been anyone else since you.”

Elio still looks straight into Oliver’s eyes, and now his own are red rimmed, and then a tear finally escapes, runs down Elio’s cheek.

Oliver doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to see Elio cry. He doesn’t know if he can do anything to stop it.

“Why are we always fighting?”

Elio’s voice is so feeble when he says that, as if he’s going to start sobbing any time, but he doesn’t, he just still looks at Oliver while his eyes spill tears down his pale cheeks. He cries so quietly, it’s breaking Oliver’s heart. 

“We’re not always fighting,” Oliver attempts. He takes that one step towards Elio, and takes him into his arms. “It just happens. It happens.”

His reasoning is bullshit, and he knows it. Nonetheless, he holds Elio against himself, until the boy’s arms go around his waist, and Elio hides his face against Oliver’s chest.

“But you won’t tell anyone,” Elio sobs, this time. He raises his face to look up at Oliver, cheeks flushed, and eyes full of tears. “You won’t tell anyone, not if there is anything to lose, for you. You won’t tell Anna. You won’t tell your parents. You’re never going to.”

Oliver wants to argue this; he wants to get angry. But he can’t.

He can’t.

He feels like crying himself.

He knows that Elio understands and yet, it hurts like hell. It hurts because he’s hurting this boy he loves more than anything, more than life itself, this boy he’s grown to love so much in such a short time. It hurts because he feels there’s so much he could do and yet he’s doing none of it. He feels rooted to the spot; paralysed. As if something is holding him back.

Elio sobs quietly one more time, against his chest, lips warm and bitten pushed to the front of Oliver’s shirt. Then he pulls himself up. Wipes at his eyes with the back of a hand, hastily at his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He doesn’t look up at Oliver when he pulls back and away from him, or when he goes to the bedroom, until Oliver hears the door close behind him.

Oliver is left, once again, with his arms empty of Elio.

It’s New Year’s Eve, tomorrow.

 


	12. Tonight

**From: Oliver**

We’re not going tonight.

  

**From: Carl T.**

?????

 

**From: Carl T.**

Calling you

 

**From: Oliver**

No, I don’t want to talk on the phone. Elio is here

 

**From: Carl T.**

And you’re in the dog house??? got it

 

**From: Oliver**

Pretty much...

 

**From: Carl T.**

Hide out on the fire stairs?

 

**From: Oliver**

Cos that wouldn’t be suspicious at all

 

**From: Carl T.**

Jfc What did you do

 

**From: Carl T.**

Anyway we need 2 talk about this. You have to come

 

**From: Oliver**

Not really

 

**From: Carl T.**

1- You’ve said yes weeks ago and

2- You’ve got a 17 y.o. on his first time in NYC and you’re making him spend NYE home, nice

 

**From: Oliver**

1- didn’t know I was RSVPing to the Queen of England

2- his age is not something I want to be reminded of right now

 

**From: Carl T.**

Jesus Oliver his age an issue now ??? Isn’t it too late when you’ve already popped his cherry and then some

 

**From Carl T.**

Also not the Queen of England but my ex is a Queen for sure ;))))))

 

**From: Oliver**

Christ Carl I can’t do this now.

 

**From: Carl T.**

Hey wait wait. Come on don’t take it out on ur bro. I’m just trying to make it sound less shitty

 

**From: Carl T.**

I don’t know what happened but I bet it’s shitty and I bet you 2 aren’t speaking and so I really think u should come 2night cos maybe it’ll help

 

**From: Oliver**

How would it help?

 

**From: Carl T.**

Well first of all it would give u a legit excuse to speak to him when u tell him. Test the water

 

**From: Carl T.**

Second of all Jacky has many many MANY rooms and I can sort you out with one so u 2 can have some privacy and ya know sort out ur issues

 

**From: Oliver**

I’m not coming if this becomes some sort of ambush

 

**From: Carl T.**

Come on Ollie! You know it’s not going to be like that but still if u have to talk then you’ll need somewhere to do that and I got u covered

 

**From: Carl T.**

But I promise no one is gonna be weird.

 

**From: Oliver**

Promise me.

 

**From: Carl T.**

I’m serious. You have my word.

 

**From: Carl T.**

And I know you’re down. I can feel it. So if there’s anything I can do for you bro, just shoot

 

**From: Oliver**

Maybe something.

 

**From: Carl T.**

All ears

 

**From: Oliver**

Keep an eye on him? Just. For his safety. I don’t think he really wants me around right now

 

**From: Carl T.**

Shit. Ok. Tricky situation eh. No worries, of course i can.

 

**From: Carl T.**

But we will fix this, ok? Don’t worry

 

**From: Oliver**

Yeah. See you tonight.


	13. New Year’s Eve

They’ve been at the party for nearly two hours already and all Oliver has been able to do is stand in one corner, making small talk with random people as needed, sipping from the same glass of wine which tastes warm and verging almost on nasty right now.

He’s been stealing glances at Elio. Elio, who’s accepted to come tonight without much fuss, who’s been quiet and subdued but still so careful with him. No complaint, no passive aggression. He’s just spoken when he has been spoken to.

Oliver guesses he’s giving him space to figure out whatever he needs to figure out - and god, Elio’s being so much more mature than Oliver is, Oliver thinks, with shame in his bones.

People have been chatting to Elio, and he chats back amiably. Guys gravitate towards him, and while Oliver’s heart throbs with jealousy, he also can’t help but think - he would have all of this without me. He’d be able to talk to people, get to know people, get to date, and maybe fall for someone who has more courage than Oliver. Someone who deserves him.

Their promise bracelet is still on Elio’s delicate wrist, and as Elio takes a sip of his drink, the silver glitters and catches Oliver’s eyes. He looks down.

“Anna’s here,” Carl sides up next to him to whisper. “Just to give you a heads up.”

“Great.” Oliver takes a sip of his drink. _So bitter._ He looks up again, at Elio’s beautiful smile as this guy Oliver barely knows makes him laugh.

“What are you doing here?” Carl looks at him suddenly as if he’s insane. “He’s yours, isn’t he? Why are you letting him get chatted up by other men??”

Carl’s voice is outraged. Oliver wishes things were as simple and straightforward and easy as they seem to be in Carl’s world sometimes.

“Because I’m a jerk, that’s why. I only hurt him. So I’m trying to not be as selfish as I have been so far.”

“This is absolute bullshit!”

Oliver doesn’t know if Carl had a lot to drink already, but he’s being very loud - and Oliver flashes him a look of alarm. _Keep_ _quiet._

Thankfully, the music is loud too - and people are too engrossed by their own chit chat to pay attention.

Carl decides to switch from yelling to snarling.

“I don’t give a fuck, Ollie. You’re being ridiculous. He loves you. And god help me you’re fucking gone for him. Just admit it to yourself and do something about it!”

Oliver sets his jaw. He looks over at Elio, who is now looking down, the guy still talking to him. Elio seems like he just can’t wait for him to be done.

“You need to fight for him.”

Carl’s voice is much lower now, but somehow, what he says hits harder than if he had shouted it. 

And he’s right.

Jaw set, chest in turmoil, Oliver leaves him there and strides over to where Elio is, in the kitchen, back against the counter, with this guy still trying to get his attention. Oliver’s heart is pounding when he reaches out and takes Elio’s hand, his fingers, squeezes a little.

“Come with me for a sec?”

Elio’s eyes when he looks up at him are green and surprised. His cheeks are flushed, like he gets when he’s trying to hold back tears.

Oliver calls himself a jerk a million times in his mind, promises a million times more for the foreseeable future - but now there’s something he has to do.

He pulls on the boy’s hand gently, but Elio goes easily, and Oliver holds him against himself.

And kisses him.

This is not a show of propriety in front of this guy. This is not an easy way out, not an attempt to appease Elio for the time being.

This is Oliver putting himself out there, on the line, showing who he is in the middle of that crowded room full of everybody that he knows, everybody that his carefully constructed existence in New York City is made of.

Everybody who’s going to be surprised, who could judge him - but Oliver doesn’t care. Not when Elio is concerned. 

If anybody looks at him, Oliver doesn’t even know. All he knows is the feel of Elio’s lips, and the fact that Elio is kissing him back. The fact that Elio’s hands are holding his too, now.

When he breaks the kiss, Oliver nudges Elio’s cheek with his nose, his throat with his lips, and begs.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He hugs him, and Elio’s hand is in his hair, fist around the strands on his nape.

A moment later, and the courage that he seems now so full of makes Oliver take Elio’s hand again and nudge him towards the corridor.

“Can we go and talk for a minute?”

Elio nods. Oliver holds his hand tighter, and leads him out of there. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Not war

**From: Carl T.**

Make love not war

 

**From: Carl T.**

Hope you’re in the master bedroom!! You can see the Empire State Building from the terrace just saying

 

**From: Carl T.**

Not that you’re interested in the view right now

 

 **From: Carl T.**

I MEAN THE VIEW OUTSIDE !!!

 

**From: Carl T.**

But romance him a little

 

**From: Carl T.**

Also the bed is much better. But white sheets !!!

 

 

 

Oliver chuckles as he reads the texts. Carl must actually be way drunker than he looked.

Next to him, curled up on the bed, Elio pushes his face further into Oliver’s neck.

They’re both fully clothed; haven’t done anything apart from kiss and huddle up together, seeking physical contact. Comfort, after all those awful, awful hours apart.

“Is Carl okay?”

Oliver puts his phone back onto the nightstand, and hugs Elio tighter against himself.

“Sorry. Yeah. Thought something happened to him.”

He kisses the side of Elio’s mouth. His chin. His nose.

Eyes closed, Elio giggles.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Baby Deer.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Oliver brings Elio’s hand up to his mouth. Kisses the skin on his wrist just under the bracelet. 

“I was a dick. Forgive me.”

Elio nods, eyes still closed. 

“You’ve already said.”

“Wow. Cold,” Oliver chuckles again. 

Elio finally opens his eyes, and looks at Oliver. 

“I wouldn’t have let you kiss me if it wasn’t in front of everyone.”

“I know.” 

A brief smile.

“But thank you for doing that. I was ready to fight Anna if she tried to hit on you.”

Oliver looks right into Elio’s eyes. 

“There is nothing between Anna and me. And there never will be.”

Elio nods. 

“But still. She could still try to hit on you. Not on my watch.”

Oliver smiles, and reaches to kiss the boy’s lips again. His mouth is full, soft, and red, and it’s been only two days but Oliver’s missed it like the air that he breathes.

“You’re sexy when you’re territorial.”

Elio pulls up to sitting, looks down on Oliver. His eyes are serious. Focused. 

“I want to be taken seriously. I might be seventeen, but I’m in this for real.” 

“I know.” Oliver is chastised. Knows that he deserves it. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

There is silence for a moment, but then Elio nods, and lies down on the bed again, with his head pushed against Oliver’s chest - and Oliver kisses his hair, the curls on his crown. Keeps his lips against the warm silk that smells of Elio. 

Right against there, he begs. 

“I’ve been a jerk. I’ve made you cry, I’ve made you upset. I said we would talk, but I broke a promise. I’m sorry.”

Elio just listens, his body still and quiet except for his chest moving up and down with his breath.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to come clean with this. With our relationship,” Oliver continues. “To my parents, to - to the people who know me. I told myself it would be fine. But it’s not. Not for you, and neither for me.”

He stops for a moment to take a breath.

“You know how difficult it is. I told you how difficult it is for me. But that’s not an excuse.”

“And this is not a fluke?” Elio’s voice is tentative, his mouth still pushed against Oliver’s bicep. “This - this is really what you’re thinking?”

Oliver sets his jaw - his Elio, always telling the truth, as it is. 

“Of course. Of course it is. I thought I’d shown you, tonight.” 

Elio looks up at him, for a moment, then his lips break into a smile. 

“Yeah. You dork.”

He squeaks, loud and breathless when Oliver gets on top of him fast, holding one of his wrists down onto the pillow in a mock show of dominance that’s just designed to make Elio laugh.

“Who are you calling a dork??” 

And laugh, Elio does, light and amused, still looking into Oliver’s eyes. 

“Seriously. You are so dorky but I love you.”

“Oh really?”

Oliver’s hand is so fast even when it abandons Elio’s wrist to go down his body, tickling him, his armpit and his ribs and his sides and his tummy. Elio laughs, laughs, breathless.

“Stop. Stop, please!” 

Smiling, feeling his own eyes gleam with relief and happiness, Oliver watches him as he slowly gets his breath back. He feels so full of tenderness, and affection.

“Come on. It’s almost midnight. Ready to go out there and kiss some more in front of all those people?” 

Elio strokes his cheekbone with his hand. 

“You don’t have to. You know? You’ve done it already. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” 

“No. It’s fine. I want to,” Oliver assures, and he does really feel it. He wants to. He wants to show everybody that Elio is his. He wants to be able to kiss Elio whenever he wants.

He wants to stop worrying about what other people will think, and even though he knows the road to this is going to be long and difficult, he wants to try, at least. Take the first step.

 

When they reappear at the party, Oliver holds Elio’s hand tight, with his head held high. He wonder where Carl is. He can see that nobody cares about what happened earlier, nobody cares about what’s happening now. Everybody’s just intent in finding someone to kiss at midnight.

 

Oliver already has that person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. What you do on the first day of the year

“I can’t believe I was drunk yesterday.”

“Well. You drank. We drank!”

“Yes but only, like. Three beers?!”

“Oh, it was more than that. And you’re small. It doesn’t take you a lot to get drunk.”

“Hey,” Elio throws a pillow at Oliver. “I’m not small. I’m just not as gigantic as you.”

Oliver laughs. The poor pillow lays on the floor, ignored, having missed its target.

“And what you do on the first day of the year you do for the rest of the year.”

Oliver adjusts the collar of his shirt - casual, light blue, good for a day out as tourists in the city - and consider his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, really? That means lots of sex for me. Good.”

Elio laughs, growls a little bit on the bed in protest.

“I didn’t mean that! But also, that’s true.”

They left Jacky’s party around 3 in the morning when most of the guests had either dispersed, or were sleeping in various places in Jacky’s admittedly huge apartment.

They went home, smelling still of champagne, beer, the sparklers they lit up at midnight, the cigarettes they smoked together. Oliver carried Elio into his bedroom and they kissed, kissed and kissed. In a strange, somber sort of mood that didn’t allow them to laugh and giggle like they would have, prey of their merrily intoxicated state - because they felt something had happened. Something different, something that changed things. Something even more monumental than promising each other to get married one day.

Somehow they found a way to never leave each other’s gaze as Oliver lay on Elio, between his legs, as they fucked, finding each other’s bodies again.

The alcohol made them tense and relaxed at the same time, and they came easily, so charged and ready, so full of desire and the fear of what would have been, had they actually lost each other.

Elio fell asleep almost instantly after, and Oliver buried his face in his curls, smelling him like he liked to do, and waiting for sleep to grasp him.

“You better only have sex with me.”

Oliver drops his hands from his shirt. He turns around, and smiles at Elio. Bends down, lifts Elio’s face by his chin, and kisses his lips.

“Jealous, jealous.”

“Well, fine. I’ll text that guy in my class then. Jonathan. He likes me.”

Oliver contemplates his boy, sitting cross legged on the bed with that impish expression in his eyes.

“I guess you want me to follow you back to Milan then?”

He sits on the bed too, and grabs Elio’s chin in his fingers again, strokes his mouth with his thumb.

“You want me to just follow you everywhere until I find this Jonathan and tell him he better not even look in your direction, not even for one second?”

Elio smiles; but Oliver can see the scarlet blossoming gently in his cheeks.

“Stalker.”

Elio’s voice is so low and soft, it travels straight to Oliver’s stomach. And lower still. And he can’t help but kiss Elio again.

They said they’d go out today though: Oliver promised pretzels, and the view from the Empire State Building, the boat to Staten Island, and Rockefeller Center and skating. Shopping for funny shirts andhot chocolate.

“You are beautiful and literally all I want right now,” Oliver starts, when they finally take a break from kissing. “But we’re never going to leave the apartment if we keep going like this.”

Elio bites his lower lip, cheekbones pulled by the pleased smile he’s got on his face.

“I’ll only trade sex for touristy stuff if you promise me there’ll be marshmallows. In the chocolate.”

“Sure. Mister Sweet Tooth.”

“My real last name. You should know. For when we get married.”

“Should I?” Oliver hasn’t even managed to get up from where he’s sitting next to Elio. It’s like a siren’s call, Elio’s presence.

He crawls closer, and Elio lies back, docile, lets himself be crowded under Oliver, between his arms. “Who says I’m taking your last name?”

They start kissing again, and for a moment, Oliver really thinks their plan is doomed. Especially when Elio’s leg wraps around Oliver’s waist; that’s when he needs to get him naked again.

But they do manage to get out, eventually. Perhaps a little more dishevelled than they planned. Perhaps Elio’s curls are messier than he intended, after Oliver ran his fingers through them over and over. Perhaps Oliver’s shirt is a little crumpled. Perhaps they both smell of each other.

But they have a wonderful day together. One where they don’t think of anything, not of the future, not of what’s going to happen, of how long will they have to wait until they’re together like this again.

No time to think of it, just now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys have a lot of sex!!! ;) also, it’s nearly time for Elio to go home.... 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Xx


	16. Goodbye

Elio had tried to joke.

“It’s fine. You know? That I’m going back. My body needs a break.”

He’d laughed at what was his attempt to joke about the amount of sex they had - or tried to, his lips pulled in the resemblance of a smile way further that they actually wanted to go.

Oliver had immediately worried, of course.

“Are you okay?”

His hands had latched around Elio’s bony hips and pulled him closer, Oliver’s face nearly pushed fully against the boy’s stomach, positioned as they were - Oliver sitting on the sofa, Elio standing in front of him, in between his knees, his fingers in Oliver’s hair, one of their favourite ways to cuddle or even simply keep their hands on each other while they waited for the coffee to brew, or the take out to be delivered.

“You dork. Yes I’m okay! I was just joking.”

Oliver had grumbled in reprimand, and kissed him, just above his navel. 

Elio had sighed.

“I really do feel you here,” he’d said, placing a hand on his stomach, and massaging there a little. “And here.” And the hand went up on his chest, over his heart.

Oliver’s eyes had gone bright, even in the semi-darkness of his living room at that hour of the evening.

He’d thought Elio would be the one to cry, but seeing as things were going just now, he himself looked like a good candidate for a breakdown instead.

“I never want you to hurt,” Oliver mumbled, a vein of self-reproach in his words. _I’ve done this to him. The pain in his tummy. The pain in his heart._

“I don’t mind.” Elio’s voice seemed a bit chocked up now. “I’d have sex with you every day for the rest of my life.” Another attempt at jest, even though he had tears in his eyes.

They had kissed a lot, Elio lying back on the couch, Oliver half on top of him, careful and attentive, and thirsty for the touch of Elio’s mouth, as if it were water given to him after a long drought.

As much as they’d been ignoring the clock, time still ticked. They still had to get in the taxi to the airport. He still had to leave Elio at check in, his eyes red and cheeks flushed, hair messy where Oliver had held onto his curls with his hand as he clutched him against his chest.

He cursed Elio’s plane for taking nine hours to get to its destination - and then he thanked whatever deity had made it so, and not twelve, fifteen, twenty hours. He missed Elio already, but told himself to be patient, to be an adult.

Not that his heart would listen.

 

 

 

 

So now Oliver is home, nursing a coffee he hastily bought off the Seven Eleven downstairs out of a need of something sugary on his tongue. His fingers tap on the coffee table.

He thinks, and thinks, and thinks.

Then he picks up the phone, and dials a number he hasn’t reached for in a long time, but which he still knows by heart, not entirely willingly.

“Hello?”

“Hi mother. It’s me, Oliver. I have something to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand I think we’ve come to the end of this part, too... but as you can imagine, I’d still like to continue it. They still need to get married! And Oliver has something important to do. 
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this story and also, what you’d like to read next. If anything ;) I think the next part will be a series of standalone “episodes” from their life, so if there’s anything you’d like to read let me know in the comments and perhaps I can make it happen! Xx

**Author's Note:**

> Ah Well. Looks like I can’t stay away from this story!
> 
> I feel like this is going to be from Oliver’s pov in New York. He has some stuff to work out and it would be interesting to see the situation from his side of things this time. But let’s see how it goes... 
> 
> Please leave me a comment ;) xx


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